


An Leabharlann

by sceawere



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Crushes, F/M, Fluff, Illiteracy, Internal Monologue, Libraries, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sceawere/pseuds/sceawere
Summary: He was going to march up to the desk and ask the old woman who worked there to teach him to read. That eternal woman who’d been working there since Arthur was in short pants, tutting at him when he hid under her desk and stole her biscuits, all the time with a ghost of a smile on her face. She’d never boxed his ears, so she mustn’t have minded that much and he was sure she’d help him out.But she wasn’t there. In her place was…a girl. The sight was jarring. His memory of this place was shifted. The doors were the wrong colour, the aisles had all moved around, and the eternal tutter of his youth was gone.“Can I help you?”Fuck. She's Pretty.





	1. Chapter 1

Finn had been chain smoking on the library steps for God knows how long. The falling ash had started to form a pattern around him like early snowfall and the cold had long taken residence in his bones. But he still hadn’t worked up the balls to walk through the bright blue doors.

He stood shuffling on the stone landing, peering around, to the door, to the street. A copper walked past on his beat and looked him over, probably wondering what Finn bloody Shelby was doing shifting around the library of all places. That was enough to tip him over.

He hadn’t been scared the first trip in, he wasn’t a fucking child. Uncomfortable, maybe. Definitely out of his element. Polly had tried to drag him in a few times when he was little, still in his scuffed up short pants. Dragged was the truest description, hand on the scruff of his jacket, not so gently guiding him through the imposing arch that lead into the main room. He’d ended up hiding in a trolley and getting an unexpected ride around the aisles.

If he’d ever bothered going to school he might have learned, but probably not. He hadn’t cared – what did he need to read for? He only needed the numbers for the odds or the cards and if he could count money out he was sorted. It had started to grate on him after a while, though. Having to get someone to point out which horse he was putting on the board, until he learned their name by sight alone. Having to copy things down letter for letter so he wouldn’t fuck it up. The huff when people took the papers out of his hand and sorted it themselves. He stopped laughing along when people explained ‘it’s alright, Finn can’t read!’

He’d been watching Charlie and some of Johnny’s kids while Pol was needed in the office when the final blow came. He’d toddled over, book in hand, and pressed it into his lap. He knew the one, his favourite, he’d seen Grace read it to him a thousand times while they’d stayed at the big house for Christmas.

“You’ll have wait for Pol, Charlie” he tried to explain lightly, swallowing the ding to his pride.

He’d gone to put the book back onto the table but Charlie had pushed it back to him insistently and looked up at him with his stupid baby eyes, all wide and glassy.

“I can’t read, Charlie. Sorry, you’ll have to wait for Pol”

The next day he’d snuck off in his lunch break, walking into town and up the big stone steps with the imposing arch. They’d fresh painted the door deep blue but the wind had taken the sign and he had stained knuckles and a dusted coat for days afterwards. A great bloody start.

He was going to march up to the desk and ask the old woman who worked there to teach him to read. That eternal woman who’d been working there since Arthur was in short pants, tutting at him when he hid under her desk and stole her biscuits, all the time with a ghost of a smile on her face. She’d never boxed his ears, so she mustn’t have minded that much and he was sure she’d help him out.

But she wasn’t there. In her place was…a girl. The sight was jarring. His memory of this place was shifted. The doors were the wrong colour, the aisles had all moved around, and the eternal tutter of his youth was gone.

“Can I help you?” she asked, in a pleasant tone that wasn't usually bestowed on Shelby's.

_Fuck._

“Uhhh…I-“ he stuttered, frantically trying to order his thoughts into something - anything - usable.

She’d stared at him politely, and then with a raised eyebrow, a head tilt, pursed lips. He didn’t know how long he’d stood stuttering at her but the numerous changes in her expression were probably an indication it was too bloody long.

“Polly wants a book” he blurted out, trying not to cringe at his own idiocy.

_She doesn’t know who Polly is, you div._

“I mean-“

“Oh, Polly Gray? Yes, of course! She asked me to keep an eye out on a hold for her, hang on just a sec”

Her face had brightened at the sound of Polly’s name and her eyes had gone from squinting in confusion to shining.

_Fuck. She’s pretty._

She was shuffling around a stack of books behind the counter, off to the side, so she was turned away from him. He took a moment to appreciate the way the light fell in her hair, the cinch of the skirt waist around her, the gentle flutter of her fingers on the spines. 

_Fuck, she’s pretty._

Mainly though, he was watching with envy at the speed with which she picked up a book, scanned the gilded lettering along the spine, then discarded it back to the pile. There was no stuttering over the shapes, no tracing the letters in her mind, no eyes squinting in confusion over the jumble of ink before her. I can’t ask  _her_ , she’ll think I’m stupid.

“Where’s Mrs A?” he asked.

She stuttered over the book she was holding then, folding it flat between her palms and taking her time to turn to him.

“Uh, she-“

She worried the side of her lip between her teeth and he wanted to enjoy the sight but the rest of her expression dulled it.

“She passed away. Only a few days ago, you know how she was, worked herself right up to the end, the…stupid old bat” she whispered the last few words to her feet, with no malice, with the tone you use to fondly insult someone.

“I’m sorry” he dipped his head.

“Yeah, me to you, as well”

“I didn’t know her that well, only when I was a kid, like. She used to tut at me a lot” he furrowed his brow as he spoke. _Why the fuck are you telling her this?_

She didn’t give him the reaction he thought though, instead laughing behind her hand, eyes rising to his.

“Yeah, me too” she agreed, with a shallow smirk.

“What you-“

“I used to shout at the old men chatting over the papers and stuff." she replied with a shrug, moving to defend herself when he frowned again. "I was trying to concentrate! It’s not easy teaching yourself to read, you know!”

She turned back to the stack with a smile on her face, pinching a book up and holding it in front of her as she moved back to the desk.

“Aha! Found it”

“You taught yourself to read?” he asked carefully.

She set about filling in the punch card, carefully copying the number from Polly’s chart.

“Yeah, well, my dad needed me on the farm and that, so I never got to school as much as I wanted. I’d come after church and Mrs A would pick me something out. She was good like that, she saw something in people, nurtured it, you know?”

He nodded back wordlessly, skin humming when it brushed against hers on the spine as she handed it over.

“Tell Polly I want to know if it’s any good then I can have it when she’s done, alright? Promise me…” she pointed.

“Uh-Finn. I’m Finn”

“Right, Finn” she pushed her lips together, nodding at him.

He lifted the book, nodded his head, a wordless ‘thanks, I’ll do that’ and got the hell away from her as fast as he could, before he started unraveling in front of her.

-

Polly looked him over like he’d presented her with evidence of a crime when he pushed the book onto the table in front of her.

“What’s that?” she asked, the snap in her tone more what he was used to.

“A book, Pol, you need your eyes testing” he returned, turning around as he took another deep breath in the warm room.

“Don’t get smart with me, Finn Shelby. What are you doing with it?”

He kept his back to her, giving up fumbling in his pockets for his stupid lighter and pushing his cig into the fireplace instead. He took the deepest drag he could, smoke flooding his senses and clouding thoughts of the pretty girl at the counter. _Ah shit, Finn, you didn’t even get her bloody name. Div._

“Went the library for you” he shrugged, as if it should make perfect sense for him to have done such a thing.

“You did what?”

“What’s he up to now?” John’s voice came from behind as well and Finn shut his eyes and sighed. Not bloody John, he’ll never let it go.

“He went to the library for me. Brought me this”

He saw her lift the book as if it was evidence in a trial in the reflection of the clock of the mantle and he rolled his eyes.

“What, Finn? In a library?” John chuckled.

“You try to do something nice for your aunt and all you get is this” Finn scoffed, taking another deep drag.

“When the hell have you ever been in a library?” his brother shot back.

“Pol took me as a kid”

“And you nearly went feral, what’s prompted this?” Polly brought them back to the task at hand.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you, I know you’ve been busy”

“Bullshit”

He rolled his eyes and took another drag, pacing along the boards in front of the fire.

“D’ya know Mrs A is dead?” He asked her, and her face fell.

“What, when?”

“Few days ago, girl on the counter told me”

“Oh, here we go-“ John started in the way he knew a joke was coming but Pol struck him with that look of hers that let even the big boys knew they’d fucked up and she was about to scold them, the same as she did the kids.

“A good woman is dead, John, you’d do well to show some respect”

John’s smile had dropped and he’d dropped all four legs of his chair back to the floor where he’d been swinging on them.

“Yeah, Pol, sorry”

“Thank you, Finn” she lifted the book to him before placing in back on the table and rising. “I better go and write a card”

“Oh, uh, the girl said to ask you what you thought of it. The book, when you were done, she wants it if it’s any good” Finn pointed out, trying to appeal nonchalant as he thought back to the encounter.

“Florence?” Polly asked, and he stalled for a moment.

“I didn’t…I didn’t get her name”

“Oh, Finn, you know what? I taught you all manners and I don’t know what any of you did with them. I swear, men are bloody useless no matter how hard you try”

“Eh, I went to the library for you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and you’ll go back again when I’m done”

He sighed, and shoved the cig back in his mouth, John laughing all the while.

_Fuck._

-

He’d gone back and forth for Polly a dozen times by now, ferrying books and messages between her and Florence.

Every time he had to work up the courage. To walk through the big blue doors. To talk to her. Not to make a show of himself.

He wanted to blurt it out – _I can’t bloody read, and you can, and you’re pretty, and if you wanted to go to the pictures or summat, I don’t know, maybe you don’t. Please teach me to read. Please go to the pictures with me._

But it never came out. Other things did though.

He told her he looked after his brother’s horses, which wasn’t a whole lie.

She told him she was slightly afraid of them after one had knocked her off on the farm when she was still half its size.

He told her about Pol boxing his ears after some stupid joke.

She laughed at the joke, and at Polly. She liked Polly.

He told her about pictures he’d watched and she told him about books she’d read.

And then she wasn’t there. Or the next time. He went a dozen more times but there was always someone else stood behind the counter. Someone who didn’t smile when they saw him coming through the big blue doors. Someone who didn’t tilt their head and crease their eyes and bite their lip the same as she did. Someone who didn’t wear the flowy skirts she did, or the stripy shirts she liked to tuck into them.

He’d almost given up. _One last time, Finn, and if she’s there, you’re going to fucking ask her to the pictures. You’re Finn fucking Shelby. You’re a Peaky Blinder._ He’d dropped the cig at that, stubbed it out with the toe of his shoes – clean ones, he’d made sure. He’d looked up at the big blue doors. And he’d fumbled for another one. Just one more. But then another.

But then his shoes were covered in flecks of ash and the copper looked him over and he’d said fuck it and yanked the handle, stepping into the close warmth of the big room.

He almost turned about face and marched back out when he saw the desk was empty but then he’d seen her, perched on the railing on the first floor, shuffling books about the cart.

By the time he’d made it up the stairs and across the landing, he’d worked up enough courage but his heart still beat double time under his pressed shirt and he shuffled his cap in hand.

“Florence”

She did a double take on the spine she was holding, smile spreading over her face as she settled her eyes on him.

“Finn! I thought you’d given up on me” she joked, eyes flicking down to his worrying fingers for just a second.

He’d never felt his mouth go so dry so quick and he was sure he’d felt calmer staring down a bloody train explosion than he did looking at her now.

“I’m only kidding, hun. I had to swap shifts for a while so Sarah could have her baby. Speaking of which, we’re short-handed” she giggled while she spoke, beckoning him over, grabbing the cap from his hands and replacing it with a handful of books.

“Help me sort these, will you? I need them in ascending alphabetic-“

“I can’t read”

She turned her face to him with the same expression he’d held a moment before.

“Oh”

“Yeah”

“Sorry, I just assumed” she dropped her own books back onto the cart and moved to take them from his hands.

“Will you teach me?”

“Will I teach you?”

“You taught yourself, right, so I thought…if it’s not too much trouble. It is, you don’t want to, I mean its fine, don’t bother, forget I asked, I never-“

He fumbled around his pocket for another cig, before remembering he couldn’t smoke in here, and also that all the ones he’d stashed were now lying in the puddles outside.

“I’ll teach you” she replied, sounding half as hesitant as he did.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Polly invited me for tea sometime so I can bring some-“

“No! Not around Pol. Sorry, just” He shoved his hat back in his pocket and looked back to his ash flecked shoes. “My brothers’ll take the piss, is all”

He saw her bring her hands up to tuck the hair behind her ears, tracing the down the strands and clasping them in front of her.

“Well, I get Sundays off, so, maybe after church? We can come here and…no-one will take the piss. I promise. I mean maybe, if you fuck up really bad, but I won’t mean it, you know? Just…you’re cute when you’re flustered is all”

He flung his head up so fast it nearly made him dizzy but he smiled when he saw her expression, eyebrows raised, teeth worrying her lip, swaying slowly in place.

“Yeah, alright”

She smiled softly, that half awkward one she did, where she pushed her lips together, and scrunched her cheeks.

“Ok, well, it’s a date, then” she nodded to herself.

“A date?”

She paused, shifting her weight from heel to heel once more.

“Well, a…an appointment then, a standing…uh, what do you call? Agreement to…”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered” he interrupted her.

She took a breath, ran her tongue around her teeth at having been teased, and then sighed before she spoke in a flat tone.

“I’m cute all the time, Finn Shelby” she insisted.

“Yeah, that’s true”

They smiled at each other, laughing and shuffling in their places.

“I’m taking you to the pictures, too” he told her, and her eyebrows rose.

“Oh, you are?”

“Yeah. I’m Finn fucking Shelby and if I say I am, then I am”

An old woman tottering past tutted at him and muttered something about youths and their language, Florence muttering an apology before turning to him with a head tilt, trying to stifle another laugh. Once she’d passed they let go and she stumbled forward to bury her head in his lapel, hands grasping around it.

He shushed her, nuzzling his nose in the crown of her head, breathing in the smell of soap and dust that enveloped her as she struggled to suppress the laughter.

“You smell like an ashtray, you better smarten up before you take me to the pictures, Mr Shelby” she said, pulling back, her fingers still folded into the cloth.

“I will, I promise”

“Yeah you will” she straightened up, running her hands over his coat to smooth it down where her fingers had crumpled it. Her hands trailed down his arm and grasped his hand. It had been frozen half solid outside but by now it was tingling in the warmth and probably sweating half to hell.

“Because I’m Florence fucking Turner and if I say you will, you will”


	2. Part 2

The last few weeks had been heaven and hell mingled together. 

Heaven was found in Florence’s arms. Once he’d worked up to actually kissing her, he couldn’t tear himself away and they spent time they should have been studying lent up against stacks of tax law in the back of the library. She had a habit of giggling against his lips and at first he’d thought she was laughing at how bad he was but she’d assured him it was just the situation they found themselves in. Tucked up in dusty aisles stealing kisses on a Sunday afternoon with a boy from a big family was not where she’d seen herself when she’d applied for the librarian job. She was having a whale of a time.

Hell came when he had to step back out through those big blue doors, do a double look around the street like he was crawling out her window, and scuttle home, a book for Polly tucked under his arm as cover and another for himself hidden in his pocket. John still took the piss, Tommy had ruffled his hair with a smirk and told him he was a good boy, like he was still a child, and the rest of them had all laughed at his expense.

He felt like blurting it out, that he wasn’t just Polly’s runner boy, that there was a pretty girl with a pretty smile waiting for him there. That she’d taught him his letters, that he could write his name and hers now. That she’d swiped a little notebook for him and wrapped a clumsy bow on it with a pen poked through. “For you to practice with”. He swiped the papers for himself, before Polly chucked them in the fire, and he had a little stack tucked under his bed. He’d copy words out of the articles and whisper the sounds to himself and then read the list back to Florence at the end of the week.

She’d tilt her head to him, nodding along, mouthing the sounds to herself as he did. When he finished she’d smile, grasp his arm, and plant a big kiss on his cheek with a giggle. She never thought he was stupid when he struggled, she was patient, and kind. And by God, was she pretty.

“I wrote you something” he interrupted her, halfway through her line.

They were lying bellies down in the tax aisle, rain hammering against the high windows, a book out in front of them. She’d been reading to him, tracing the line with her finger so he could keep up, but he’d been stealing looks at her and barely taking in the words. She rolled her eyes over the page to him.

“You’re supposed to be concentrating, Finn” she scolded lightly.

“I know but I wrote you something”

She quirked an eyebrow and moved to her side, balancing on her elbow. He liked the way her hair fell over her shoulder, like a wave against the cliffs, rolling and twisting to find its path, dragging the other strands with it.

“What did you write me?”

He fumbled in his pocket for the notebook, flicking it to the right page. He put it out in front of her and waited for her to study the imprecise shapes.

“Will you go the pictures with me?” she read the words he'd written aloud.

“Yeah”

She bit at the inside of her lip and flicked her eyes from the page to him and back again.

“I didn’t know I had a choice in this? I thought Finn fucking Shelby had already made the decision?” She was teasing him with her tone and he gave her a little smile back, flustered all the while.

“Polly says I have to start using my manners more” he explained with a bashful shrug.

She laughed out loud at this, throwing her hand up to cover her mouth, trying to stifle the sound as someone shushed her in the distance. She coughed and then hummed at him.

“Well, Polly is right” she replied, back to a considerate whisper.

“Always”

“That’s a fact if ever I heard one”

She rolled back onto her stomach and fiddled with the notebook.

“What picture?” she asked, finger dancing over the slightly smudged lines.

“Uhh, I dunno. We’ll see what’s on?”

“If I  _were_  to say yes, I would get to pick” she insisted.

“Yeah, ok”

“Pass us a pen?”

He fumbled again in his jacket, dropping loose cigs on the ground, betting tickets, coins and crap, before he found what he was looking for. She shook her head at him, looping words onto the page under his scrawl. She dropped the pen in the pile and held the notebook up to him.

“What does that say?”

He furrowed his brow, studying the words carefully. Her letters weren’t the same as his, cursive and flowing, and it took him a second to double check in his mind before he spoke.

“It’s a date then” he read.

“It’s a date” she confirmed.

-

“Who you all dressed up for?”

Fuck. He was hoping to sneak out while his brothers were busy but Arthur had caught him cutting out and his question had drawn the others in.

“No-one, I’m not” he defended.

“Off to the library again, are you?” John teased, shit eating grin wide on his face already.

“Shove off, John” Finn spat back.

“Leave him alone, she’s doing him good”

He furrowed his brow and turned to Polly.

“What?”

“Oh, Finn, you’re a lot of things, but you’re not subtle. D’ya think I haven’t noticed?” his aunt scolded him.

“I dunno what you’re talking about, Pol”

“I’m talking about you and Florence, never forget I know everything that happens in this house” she pointed up to all of the boys in turn.

“She ain’t even been in the house yet” Finn frowned.

The boys let out a yell at his and he realised his mistake.

“Oh, fuck off the lot of you”

“Eh, how longs this been going on then?” Arthur asked.

He pulled his hat back off and dropped it on the table.

“Couple weeks”

“Leave him be, leave him be” Tommy took the cig he was lighting for himself out of his mouth and Finn sighed, pocketing his lighter and dropping into a chair.

“I’m meant be taking her the pictures” he elaborated, Tommy's brow peaking, before he settled into a nod.

“That’s lovely, Finn, nice and respectable” he patted his shoulder.

“Depends what they’re gonna do there”

He kicked out the leg of John’s chair and watched as he went sprawling back. Polly shouted at them when they went for each other and Arthur pulled John away when he tried to right himself.

“I’m sure Finn will be a complete gentlemen, unlike you John.”

“He better be, Florence is a lovely girl, if I find out you’ve not been treating her right I’ll have your head, lad.” Polly joined in.

“I asked her proper, wrote her a note and everything, used my manners Pol”

“You wrote her a note? You can’t bloody read, Finn” John frowned.

“I can actually, John” he lit a cig for real this time, taking a deep drag before he carried on, half whispering, “a little bit, she taught me my letters and that”.

Polly’s face softened and the boys all looked between each other with a look he couldn’t fix. He was waiting for one of them to make a joke but one never came. He focused on the smoke in his lungs, rolling the cig between his fingers, and waited.

“She’s teaching you to read, Finn?” Polly tried to clarify.

“Yeah, I asked her. Sick of being thick”

“Oh Finn-“

“She don’t think I’m thick, Pol, she taught herself when she were little, she don’t make fun of me. I’m doing well, she says, I read half a page the other day”

Polly clasped her hands in front of her face, smiling at him.

“Well, that’s lovely, Finn”

“Yeah, Finn. Good on ya” Arthur clasped a hand to his shoulder.

“When are you taking her to the pictures?”

“Tonight, we’re gonna get the six show, I think”

“Well then,” Tommy stamped out his smoke in the ashtray and stood before rooting in his pocket, throwing a set of keys over the table at him, “you better impress the lady, give her a good night to say thank you for teaching you to read”

“I can have the car?”

“You can borrow the car” he wagged a pointing finger at him “and you can bring it back without a scratch, by midnight, or so help me, Finn Shelby”

“Oh, Finn”

“Polly, stop” he pocketed the keys and stubbed his smoke over Tommy’s.

“He’s not marrying her”

“That’s what you said Johnny”

“I’m not marrying her! I’m taking her the pictures, that’s all” Finn defended.

“And learning to read”

He tugged his hat back on.

“Don’t take the piss, John”

“I’m not! Eh-“he squared up, slapping his cheeks and smiling “I’m proud of you, Finn. And I’m giving you half my shifts from now on cos you can read the board now can’t you.”

“Oh piss off”

“Let the boy go, there’s a lady waiting for him” Polly stood up, tidying the table as went, and gave him a kiss on the cheek before he left.

-

Finn realised he’d never actually seen her outside the library and her stripy shirts before, so when he pulled up to the end of the farm lane and saw her leaning against a fence post in a flowery dress, he took a minute to process it.

_Fuck, she’s pretty. And she’s coming the pictures with me._

“Finn!” she swayed through the puddles on the mud track and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Since when do you have a car?” her brows furrowed, eyes trailing over the shining metal.

“Oh, it’s my brothers. He said we could borrow it for tonight, to impress you like.” _You didn’t need to tell her that, Finn._

“Your brother knows about me?” she stretched the words out, taking each one carefully as she considered the revelation.

“Uh, yeah”

She’d furrowed her brow, confused, but when he confirmed it a smile broke out on her face, slow at first, then wide and she shuffled a little in place.

“Oh, well then”

“Sorry, did you not want…”

“No! I mean, yes. Fuck, I don’t know what I mean. I thought I was a secret, is all” she shrugged, hair flowing as she shook her head.

“I wasn’t keeping you a secret. I’m not ashamed of you or anything. I just…”

“Your brothers would take the piss, is all” she repeated his common words back to him.

“Yeah”

“Yeah” she confirmed.

“Florence!”

She took in a deep breath at the sound of the voice off to the side.

“Well, here’s my brother to take the piss, uhh, just to let you know – he doesn’t know about you!”

She avoided his eyes, turning to the man who was climbing over the fence at the edge of the field.

“Who’s this?” her brother asked, and she crossed her arms, squaring up.

“This is Finn, he’s taking me to the pictures tonight”

“Oh is he?”

“Yes, he is, actually”

Finn stood to the side of them, staying quiet, and doing his best to disappear. Her brother was a foot taller than him, two on her, and built like a brick house. Fuck.

“Right, so does dad know about this?”

“He knows I’m going to the pictures, I told him” she nodded, bouncing her words into a slightly higher tone. Very careful word choice, he noted.

“Yeah, but did you tell him he’s going with ya?” His arm came up to point at Finn and Florence fluttered about for a moment.

“He didn’t ask, and I didn’t tell him, no” 

“What’s your name?” the brother turned to him, arm still pointing, brow furrowed.

“Uh, Finn” he stumbled, eyes flicking to Florence for just a second.

“Right, _UhFinn_ , I knew that didn’t I? Because she told me, so what’s your  _name_?”

“He’s a Shelby” Florence sighed, clearly bored with this whole ordeal.

“I’m asking him” her brother insisted.

Florence huffed and re-crossed her arms, staring off across the field, looking more and more bored. He took that as a good sign, that she was bored, and not concerned. Hopefully her brother would just interrogate him and there would be no physical harm.

“I’m a Shelby”

“A Shelby?”

“Yeah, a Shelby” Finn stood up as straight as he could, taking his hat off and squaring up to her brother. If he hits me, I’ll get battered.

“Robbie…” Florence’s voice was still bored, rather than concerned, and he took it as a confirmation that her brother was just trying to intimidate him, rather than actually going to hurt him.

“He treat you right, Florry?”

Their eyes never broke and Finn was doing his best not to blink.

“Yeah, Robbie, he does”

Robbie nodded at this, then leaned in a little closer.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re a Shelby, you hurt her-“

“Yeah, yeah, big brother threats, you’ll batter him, he gets it. I’m bored. Can we go now, please?” Florence asked.

Robbie stopped, sighed, and turned to her.

“Can you just let me do this, please?” his tone has fallen from intimidating to half pleading, and Finn swallowed his smile. 

“No, don’t be a dolt. Now piss off and let me have my fun” she frowned, waving her hand towards the house.

He turned back to Finn, squinting at him and shaking his finger.

“If you have  _too much fun_ -“

“I will put a pig in your bed, Robert, and a sheep in your bathtub” Florence warned.

Finn furrowed his brow at this, and broke his stare to look at Florence with a look that showed his confusion.

“It’s a…it’s a thing we say, he understands. Never mind, let’s just go” she reached out to hook his elbow.

“You’re going nowhere without a coat” Robbie insisted.

“Oh good Lord, do you wanna pack my lunch box as well, Rob?”

“Here she can have mine” Finn shuffled off his coat and wrapped it over her shoulders, running his fingers through the hair at the back and gently laying it over the collar. The gesture seemed to placate Robert, who crossed his arms and shuffled in place.

“See? He’s a gentlemen” Florence waved at him, like he was an exhibit.

“Never heard that said about a Shelby”

“Yeah, and what do they say about Turners, Robbie, eh?” she asked.

“Nothing nice since ‘64” he returned, and she gave a  _yeah, see_ expression back to him.

Finn scowled again and looked to Florence.

“It’s a…long family story, that involves pigs in beds and sheep in bath- look let’s just leave, alright?” She grasped his arm and turned him off down the lane, towards the car.

“11, Florrie!”

“Midnight, Robert!”

He helped her into the car and she hummed a little as she looked around.

“I’ve never actually been in a car before – they look different inside” she leaned forward, nose crinkling as she poked at things lightly.

“You’ve never been in a car?”

“Cattle truck and stuff, ya know, but…not all of us are posh folk, Mr Shelby. We're still on carts round these ways”

She smirked at him, gathering his coat around her and he made a note to let her wear his clothes as often as possible.

“Oh here”

He reached back behind her and pulled out a little bunch of yellow flowers, which he now realised matched her dress, and she must have too, because she giggled as she held them to her chest.

“You brought me flowers!”

“Polly insisted I bring you something nice” he replied, not sure whether he should just take the credit, but deciding lying to her wasn't how he wanted this to go.

“Remind me to thank Polly, she’s doing a good job with you”

“She says the same about you”

Her smile fell a little at this, not upset, but just gentler, blinking into the flowers as she pressed her nose to them and hummed.

“Don’t people usually bring roses?”

“Uh-sorry. I can get you new ones, on the way”

She laughed into the flowers again.

“No, I’d hate roses!”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t  _hate_  roses I just…don’t buy me roses, please. I meant, guys all usually buy roses because it’s what you buy, and you didn’t, you brought me these”

“I didn’t know”

“I think you knew” she nodded to him and smiled.

“I just thought they were pretty and you’re pretty and…” he stuttered over the words and she laughed at him again. He didn’t mind when she laughed at him. He shook his head and turned to start the car.

“Never mind, let’s go the pictures”

He nodded his cap to Robbie, who was still stood square in the middle of the lane, arms crossed and staring them down.

“Nice man” he said, and she snorted.

“Oh, he’s lovely”

They laughed as he turned the car and started off down the way back to the proper road.

“What’s all this about pigs in bathtubs?”

“No, it’s a pig in the bed and…” she sighed and turned in the seat to face him better, “ok, so, my grandad right, in ’64-“


	3. Part 3

The date had not gone as planned.

There’d been an accident by the bridge and they’d had to back up and drive halfway around town to avoid it, meaning they were late for the start of the film. They sat through the last half anyway, completely confused as to the storyline. They’d ended up whispering to each other, doing funny voiceovers and making up their own story.

A woman had shushed Florence and she’d quickly told them to shut up and let her have some fun. When they turned around she realised they were her mums friend and apologised, pushing Finn quickly out of his seat.

He’d laughed at her as she’d walked out so fast she was nearly jogging, red faced, dragging him behind.

“We can never come back here again” she insisted.

“It’s not that bad, you only told her to shut up. I bet she’s heard worse” he defended, and she let out a desperate, strangled, half shriek.

“Never from me! I won’t be able to show my face for weeks” she was damn near hyperventilating as she forged ahead, only stalling when he physically pulled her back.

“Florence!”

“Finley!”

“That’s not my name”

“I know but your name’s too short for impact, you need a Sunday name. Everyone needs a Sunday name” she insisted.

“What now?” he asked, hands rolling up and down her arms under his coat she still had slung over her shoulders.

“Let’s just…go for a drive somewhere. Anywhere” she shook her head as she began to sooth under his touch.

-

The tyre blew. And on the walk back, the heavens opened.

They ended up running back to Watery Lane, which by now was living up to its name, huddled under Finn’s coat as best they could.

“Oh my gosh. You’re soaked, Finn” she sighed.

“I’m alright”

“You need to put summat dry on before you get chilled. You look like you went for a swim in the canal” she wiped her palm against her sodden cheek.

“You don’t look much better”

“Oi!”

He laughed, smoothed his hair back, and then looked around to see if anyone was around. He gave a peek through the door to the office and could see the lamp on in Michael’s office but little else.

“Come on, I’ll get you something to change into”

“Trying to get my clothes off, Mr Shelby. For shame! On the first date” she teased, and he smirked back at her.

“You’re the one who brought it up, missus”

Florence shrugged, taking his outstretched hand, following him up the staircase.

“Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know. My cousin’s in his office but it’s still early so…”

“Will Polly be alright with me being in here?” she asked, words tumbling over the next.

“Why wouldn’t she be? She likes you”

“It’s different, though”

He sniffed, opening the door with a shove of his shoulder.

“Sorry about the mess, didn’t think we’d be coming back or I would have put stuff away”

“No, it’s fine. I have a brother, remember, I’ve seen a damn sight worse”

Finn went around grabbing clothes of the floor, kicking bits under the bedframe, pushing drawers shut.

“Right, uh. This is clean, I promise”

He handed her over a shirt and she laughed under her breath, tugging it between her teeth so her hands were free to unbutton the back of her dress. After a few goes, she dropped the fabric from her mouth and caught it, holding it to her chest.

“Can you…my fingers are too cold, I can’t get these properly”

“Uhh…oh yeah”

Florence turned her back to him, flicking her head round to look over her shoulder a few times nervously. He trailed her hair over one shoulder, then set about unhooking the buttons through their loops, fingertips trailing over the damp skin peering through the opening in the fabric.

“Thanks” she whispered.

“Yeah, sure…I’ll uh” He headed off to grab the door handle.

“You can just turn around, I trust you”

He’d never looked this deeply at a door in his life. A few more moments and he would be able to draw a fucking map of every line and nick in the paintwork. There was a soft shuffle of fabric, a whoosh of air as her dress hit the ground, and he swallowed, looking to his feet.

“Alright, I’m decent again”

He scratched his forehead, giving her a few extra seconds just in case, before he turned back to her. She was tucking her bare legs under her on the bed, her dress and stockings draped over the wire frame to dry.

“I’ll shove the fire on, it’ll dry them out faster” he began to hurry across the room, needing to do absolutely anything with the amount of nervous energy forming in his limbs, but she pushed up and waved him off.

“Oh, I’ll do it. You get something dry on”

He handed the matches over to her and she crawled off the other side of the bed towards the fireplace. He turned as quick as he could at the sight of a little more skin than he was prepared for.

He’d never been so self-conscious in his life, turning back to check she was pre-occupied about 20 times during his change.

“What time we on?” she mumbled, bent over the fire as she spied the embers.

“Uhh…it’s about half 8?”

“Oh, plenty of time then. Although…what are we going to do about getting me home without the car?”

“I can call one of the trucks off Tommy. He'll be back by ten”

“So…” she stood and turned to him, arms fussing in front of her “what are we going to do until then?”

-

They settled for pulling the blankets down off the bed and making a nest in front of the fire. Finn ran down to raid Polly’s cupboards and they ended up having a picnic in his room, cuddling up when they were full.

“Uhh…both”

“That’s not the game! You have to pick” she sighed.

“No, I don’t” Finn insisted.

Finn was lying with one arm behind his head, the other flat on the ground, with Florence resting on it. She’d grabbed his hand, interlinked their fingers, and was playing with it by her shoulder, staring up at the ceiling.

“Finn!”

“I-“

There was an echo of a door slamming from downstairs and Finn turned his head, listening. The rumble of voices and footsteps on the stairs got them both moving.

“Shit, is that your brothers?” she hissed, scattering about.

“Yeah, must be”

They looked around for somewhere for her to hide but save for crawling under the bed frame or standing behind a curtain, there was nowhere. Florence palmed at her dress hurriedly, scowling.

“It’s still too damp to put on, fuck”

“Try-“

The door opened before he could finish his thought and Tommy stood there, looking between them both. Florence fussed with the hem of Finn’s shirt, trying to pull it to cover a few extra inches of skin. Tommy rolled his eyes over to Finn, hand still on the door handle.

“Downstairs, Finn” he said, his big brother tone firmly in place.

“Tommy-“

“Downstairs” He looked back over to Florence “Get your dress back on before Polly sees you”

“I can’t-it’s too wet. We were in the rain, I-“ she tried to explain.

“We got caught in the rain Tommy, that’s all. She needed something dry to wear”

Tommy’s eyes flicked between them both, and the blankets mussed up on the floor.

“I swear, Tommy”

“Where’s the car?”

“Other side of the factories. Tyre blew out, we never replaced the spare, so I couldn’t fix it”

“We had to run back through the rain. He never touched me, I promise. We’re just waiting for it to dry off and for you to come back with the truck so he could drive me home again”

Tommy nodded, looking back to Finn.

“Be thankful it wasn’t Polly who came home first, yeah” he pointed to him, and Finn swallowed, head bobbing frantically.

“Yeah…thanks Tommy”

“Polly was fixing a dress for Ada – go and find it. She can wear that and I’ll drive her home while you fix the car”

“Tommy-“

“Thank you, Mr Shelby”

Finn looked over to Florence and she fixed him with a look that told him not to push his luck.

-

The drive back was awkward. Tommy was driving with Finn in the front and Florence in the back. It felt wrong to be wearing someone else’s dress, her own damp one bundled up in her lap. No one spoke.

He pulled the car over behind the other and stepped out to help Finn carry the tyre and bits over. He looked over the car carefully, checking to see if Finn had done any damage to it. Florence took the few moments, popped out of the backseat, and pulled Finn behind the cover of the car.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my goodnight kiss while I can”

She pushed up, smiling against his lips, and pulled his cap off his head to shield their faces from where Tommy was. She giggled when Tommy cleared his throat on the other side of the fabric and pulled back.

“Goodnight, Mr Shelby” she pressed one last peck to Finn's cheek.

“Goodnight, Miss Turner”

She handed the cap back to him, keeping her head down as she turned back to get in the car.

Tommy blew his smoke out, watching her climb back in, turning to Finn when she shut the door.

“Don’t scratch my car” Tommy insisted, pointing back to the broken down auto behind them.

He climbed in and drove off, Florence sticking her tongue out at him through the back window until she disappeared out of sight. Finn watched her go with a smile, turning back to the waiting repair.

“Ah, fuck”


End file.
